Fury
by Bytemite
Summary: Horse thieves plague a rimworld town, and the crew of Serenity get caught up in the local feuds and secrets. Pre-movie.
1. Chapter 1

All praise to Joss, who rules This Verse.

I wanted to write this as a send-up to the wild west elements in Firefly, as in the natural setting, the quirky people, and the themes and history. I'm also experimenting with some shorter more episodic story formats, and toning down the shipping aspects and florid descriptions. This section has only one part that might be construed as unnecessarily florid and shippy.

WARNING: This section also has hints of some darker stuff than I usually write about.

* * *

The roar of atmospheric re-entry split the fiery clouds of the early dawn sky, the turbines at _Serenity_'s wingtips and the skill of her pilot cushioning the often frantic and malfunction-prone landing. As soon as the Firefly class B cargo ship settled onto the grassy bluff above the pasture lands, all nine of the travelers gathered at the main airlock for their first look at the new and unfamiliar world. In part an informal head count opportunity for the captain, the ritual never lost the sense of poignancy.

A cool, clean breeze drifted into the burnished metal of the cargo bay around them, carrying the essence of the prairie frontier. They shared in the experience, briefly drawn closer like the arm the lean soldier wrapped around her husband, and they all breathed deeply, a respite from the algae-filtered air of a week in transit.

Malcolm Reynolds spoke above their reverie, briefing them on the order of the day. "Don't let the idyllic scenery lull you now," he warned.

Even the prim and proper doctor from the coreworlds had joined them, surveying the view even as he held back his unpredictable sister from running out amid the daisies. "Yes," Simon observed, "that field of wildflowers looks deadly."

The captain shot an icy look at the Tam siblings - _I don't pay you to be smart_. They answered with their own. _Actually, you do._ He put his hands up_. Whatever_. "The town nearby," Mal continued, with particular emphasis, "is known as Temperance, and they like to live up to their name. Don't much like outsiders, particularly what peddle vice, trouble, or merry making."

"Columbine and lupine!" River pronounced, with a bright smile for her brother. The look faded, and her brow furrowed. "The doves among the wolves."

"What she said," Mal agreed.

As ever, Jayne Cobb blundered into the moment with all the mercenary delicacy of hired muscle. "We just gonna stand around here, or we plannin' to make some coin?" He was already armed with an unnecessarily large rifle.

Zoe detached herself from her embrace with Wash and joined Kaylee in looking over the hovermule. Shepherd Book stepped forward as the captain watched the proceedings. "I suppose that would be why we're runnin' moonshine to these folks," he mused.

Mal nodded. "In keeping with the natural order. Oft times a ban on alcohol don't last long, and it pays well to deliver to dry counties." He glanced over at the older man. "Problem, Shepherd? Wouldn't want those hairs of yours to turn any more grey."

Book grinned back, holding his bible close. "Actually, preachers are known to have some communion with the spirits now and then," he replied, with humour and some nostalgia. "Back at the Abbey, we even had our own distillery."

"That's cordial. Isn't that cordial, Zoe?" Wash asked. The first mate waved a hand at him, acknowledging the joke.

The little mechanic looked up eagerly, a smudge of grease already adorning one of her cheeks. "You mean like raspberry flavoured?" Kaylee wondered.

"I could go for some," Jayne said, keenly interested in the liquor conversation.

"All right," the captain intervened, before his crew could chatter the day away. "Best behaviour. You can all talk about culture later." He addressed the dark-haired companion gracefully approaching him from the side, her silk dress whispering and her doe-eyes studying him from under thick eyelashes. "That goes for you too. Be careful out there."

"Me?" Inara asked, halfway between amusement and disbelief. "You're the one who's always getting into trouble."

"I mean it," Mal insisted. "If you have any clients..." He shook his head. He didn't want to talk about her clients. "Well, what's legal in the core might not be given so much leniency out here."

She regarded him coolly. "Perhaps they appreciate thieves and smugglers more." The courtesan floated off, and as he caught the subtle perfume she left in the air, belatedly he thought to be curious why she'd been walking over to him in the first place. The mule backfired and interrupted his curiosity. Right. Time to head into town and make their deliveries.

River spoke up again. "They say it's haunted."

He looked at her where she'd materialized by his elbow. "Who does?" he asked.

The teenage psychic turned her unnerving gaze on him. "The ghosts."

= = = = =  
The heat was a swelter, mindless wrath that beat with violence upon the numbed senses. The wastelands felt nothing, knew nothing. Only the brutal facts of existence - of four days of walking to reach water, and nothing but sand for miles and miles. A stirring of dust, and the thunder of hoofbeats, echoes already long gone beyond the mirage of the horizon.

"Good riddance to them," Vinny said. It was all she could think of.

He smiled up at her, his head on her lap, with all the fevered ardor and cluelessness of a man in love. "It'll be all right," he promised her. So much promise. Last week she'd pledged her life to him in that little chapel, before they'd had to run. Sweet Elian, still thinking on her, even now. Didn't even blame her for the trouble she'd brought down on him.

She'd been gentle once, and pure, until she'd caught a greedy eye. Maybe if she just stayed still, she could fade into the landscape. Her golden tresses and her bones, and all the blood on her hands, in his hair, down her legs, staining her torn dress. She supposed some sins just don't wash away. Never rained here anyway.

Five years ago, two lovers died in the desert, and no one shed a tear.


	2. Chapter 2

Hey, everyone. Sorry about this being about four months late. Basically a combination of writer's block and lots of busy without a real break. I'm not sure I can make any promises about the next chapter either, don't have this story planned out beyond a few vagueries and the ending. But I'm still slowly working on it.

* * *

(Act 1)  
Dirt-laden wind and smoke swirled together, a choking mixture lingering ominously over the remains of the burning encampment. The inferno cleansed them none-the-less. Almost peaceful, now that the crying and screaming and fussing had quieted down.

Vultures could track their prey for days, sometimes before a body even knew it was dying. They were circling now, studying the intruders. This was their land after all, would be long after everyone else was withered and gone, claimed by the desert.

Eventually a survivor panicked and tried to escape, hoping the raiders left already. He wouldn't get far.

The rider overlooking the scene raised a rifle, taking careful aim. The runner dropped like a stone, with about as much relevance. Nothing else moved after that until the fires grew low. They turned away, pulling the caravan's horses with them by the reins and rode off, and only the buzzards remained.

- - - - -  
The town of Temperance was also modest, a little one lane affair with a scattering of homes and businesses. Small enough anyway to fit in the shadow cast by the Baxter mansion at the end of the road. That was enough to put anyone in a mood, and draw a suspicious eye to any strangers, so the captain of _Serenity_ had some concerns when the drop off coordinates led them along the outskirts and then behind a small white stone chapel.

The old man in the rocking chair guarding the cellar lifted the brim of his straw hat as they approached, assessing them with a keen eye, before returning to the wooden bear he was whittling. "We're closed."

His first mate had her own doubts, and Zoe glanced over. "This the place?" she wondered skeptically.

She asked what Jayne blurted without any discretion. "A _church_? The hell -?"

Closer to the truth than he'd like. "Jayne," Mal interrupted, warning. "We're good little pilgrims here." The mercenary grunted unhappily, sitting back and crossing his arms, and the captain turned back to the shriveled watchman and tapped their crate of moonshine. "Even brought a donation. You're Tommy?"

"Ol' Tom Two-Bits," the man corrected, squinting over at him. "I might be. What kinda alms you talkin'?"

The captain shrugged nonchalantly. At least they'd found their contact. Couldn't say much for the choice of meeting place though. "The liquid kind. Holy water and coffin varnish."

"Hah!" Tommy grinned and showed off all his teeth, the eponymous pair of them. "That's downright benner-factorin'. Got a formidable preacher, real fire an' brimstone type. Always need fer more baptism."

Mal frowned skeptically at the set up. "They approve of you taking up under the altar?"

"Not whatsoever, but Father Greaves don't got much say, unlike me," the old man answered garrulously. "He keeps his lively blessin's, an' we move the devil's work underground. Speaking of..." Tom nodded to the heavy wood panels of the cellar door. "Welcome to _The Cathedral_. Take yer libations to the bar."

- - - - -  
The field shimmered with sunlight and the flickering shadows of the revelers, glistening against the morning dew. River had engaged Kaylee in a game of tag almost immediately. While the two youngest crew were playing around, the doctor was watching from the gang-way with a small smile and about as much levity as a flying brick.

Ah, the mysteries of life. Advanced astronavigation couldn't help Wash follow the logic behind the Kaylee and Simon, but, he supposed there were odder match-ups out there. Himself and Zoe, for which he was eternally grateful.

He couldn't claim any particular talent or understanding with the feminine persuasion, he'd more just been extremely lucky with his wife. But the doc needed all the help he could get. "Bet she'd like a flower," Wash hinted. Especially from Simon. Even though there was probably a good million blossoms out there to choose from and Kaylee could pick any of them on her own.

Simon didn't even look away from where she was playing with his sister. "Who, River?" he asked, distracted. Egads. The boy was doomed. DOOMED. There was only one possible course of action.

Wash pushed him, and Simon staggered a few steps off the ramp. "Have fun!" Wash called, waving. The doctor frowned over at him, then walked towards the girls on his own. Wash shook his head to himself. There, but for the grace of shaving cream and a few drinks was him. He turned and started to make his way back to the helm – usually someone had gotten in trouble about now.

- - - - -  
A man of the church, grey-haired, weathered, with an obvious clerical collar in his modest grey livery. A companion, dressed down without makeup but still unmistakable, her dark curls and red silk outshining the bright pastels of the single-room homes and businesses. The townspeople passed them with increasingly hostile looks, and crossed themselves before hurrying away, but she ignored them with serene dignity.

Inara glanced back towards the meadow behind them - no sign of their younger friends. "Should we wait for them?"

"Oh, they'll be some time," the shepherd answered knowingly, with warmth to rival the sunshine on the daisies. He offered an arm, which she accepted, then meditated a moment on the fresh air. "It does feel good to be planetside awhile. We don't get days like this too often. Breathes new life into the soul."

"It's usually darker up there," Inara admitted, her voice almost wistful except her the curve of her lips. "I'm almost tempted to join in." The preacher raised a silvered eyebrow at her. "But this is..." she trailed off as something in the road squelched wetly under her sandal. "...Charming," she winced.

"I'm sure," Book said, skeptically, as she discretely tried to scrape the bottom of her shoe against the broken gravel. There was no accusation in his voice, just curiosity. "Would've thought you'd be off on a lavish adventure with one of the land barons hereabout."

Inara paused in her efforts, as though pained. A group of people were gathering around the church, with an occasional shout of anger and outrage. A young man stood on the steps before them, one arm around a bible and the other outstretched to them as though to calm them, but his words were like a wild-fire among the crowd. "Every day is an adventure," she replied.

Book frowned at the congregation. "Could the captain be involved?" he asked.

Inara sighed to herself - _of course he is_ - and hitched up her skirt, moving towards the crowd to try to create a distraction.

- - - - -  
As far as drinking establishments went, the cellar under the church was underwhelming - empty, except for the local toughs that were waiting for them. Three of them. Two were overweight and bulky with scraggly dark hair, one taller and one shorter, one with stubble and the other with a beard. The third stood back watching, clearly in charge with a lazy kind of calculation behind mousy hair and something lean and dangerous in his stance.

"Mornin'," Mal greeted, immediately on edge.

The leader of the three waved him off. "We'll take it from here."

Their contact hadn't mentioned anyone besides Tom, and he was getting a decidedly unfriendly vibe from these characters. "Take it where?" Mal asked, trying for oblivious.

In answer, the two brutes wordlessly pulled open a trapdoor at their feet. "We're set up at the end of a mine shaft," his counterpart elaborated. "Tunnel's like a maze, liable to get lost in 'em."

No one moved. The broker glanced at the crate Jayne was carrying. Mal looked pointedly at the money pouch hung on the man's belt by his holster. The other man bared his teeth in a rough approximation of a smile that put no one at ease, and tossed him the bag. Mal hefted it, checking the weight, then nodded to Jayne. The two drudges moved forward as Jayne set the box down.

Then the tension exploded with help from a gunshot. The captain drew his own sidearm, wondering why Zoe had fired as they stared down the three other barrels. He exchanged a glance with Zoe, and found a question in her eyes. He followed her gaze over his shoulder.

"_Blasphemers!_ How DARE you profane this ground!" The preacher in the doorway was young, but he blazed in righteous fury alongside his shotgun, a fire that promised holy wrath in his booming voice, his light brown eyes, his golden hair. "As I protect my flock, so too will God rebuke and strike down with vengeance upon those who would bring them harm! I will not go back; I will not spare; I will not relent; according to your ways and your deeds you will be judged!"

"Mal, you got us smote? I don't wanna be smote." Jayne scowled. "I toldya not to truck with no church."

Their fence raised an eyebrow over his pistol. "Man's got some wisdom it seems." He smirked at them, and pulled a silver star hung on a chain out from his shirt collar. "What's he got to say about smuggling and the law?"

"Aw hell."

"The devil knows his own," the cleric agreed. Zoe reluctantly raised her weapon in surrender and Jayne set down his rifle. Mal cursed inwardly to himself - once again, nothing ever went right. Why couldn't it ever go right? Best he could figure it was some kind of divine punishment. The sheriff and the two deputies waved their guns at them and forced them up the stairs into the chapel.

- - - - -  
They were just about in a gorramn dungeon, the stay not made any more pleasant with the pair of thugs pawing through the money they'd taken back as bail. Then Inara walked into the joint in her red dress like she owned the place. He was having flashbacks about Paradiso and Mal knew – she was Hell and Damnation for sure. This time, though, he couldn't help noticing she was in handcuffs. "Hey-" he started, and received a scathing look from her that shut him up directly.

Well. That was interesting. Mal glanced at Zoe, leaning against the dirty stone wall, and Jayne, who had his big mitts around the bars like he could shake the cage open. He was about to open his mouth again to annoy her some more when the Sheriff stepped into the holding block after her and opened a solitary cell. He leered at her as she drifted by into the room. "Here y'are, princess. You get lonely, just give me or one of the boys a call."

Inara settled down on the austere cot and brushed at her skirt. The companion smiled back with all the charm she could muster, but was a tightness at the edge of her eyes. "That won't be necessary."

The sheriff's expression was predatory, and full of insinuation. "Oh, we insist. Big believers in the punishment fittin' the crime around here." He shut the door and locked it, then pulled out a hip flagon and took a drink from it.

Mal bristled, but quickly pushed his temper down. Zoe looked calm as ever - and ready to kill. He didn't like their odds for shooting their way out. "What're we in for?" the captain asked, forcing guileless curiosity. Partially as a distraction, and partially to stop the obnoxious gloating.

He glanced over his shoulder at them. "You can guess. Local embargo violations and smuggling." The corrupt cop turned and raised the flask then tipped his head their direction. "Also illegal possession and sale of alcohol. Thanks for that, by the way."

The captain clenched his teeth. "No problem." Mal nodded over towards Inara. "And her?"

A nasty smirk. "Indecent exposure and public lewdness." Jayne boggled and his attention immediately swiveled over to the companion, staring at her shamelessly. He would've been annoyed at the mercenary if he wasn't similarly occupied himself.

Zoe sighed at them. "Any time you two want to crawl out of the gutter, we'd be much obliged."

That proved an impossible request for Jayne - the larger man merely grinned in an unwholesome way and sat himself down on the shared commode - but Mal regained his senses and cleared his throat awkwardly. "I'm sorry I missed that," he admitted.

"Oh please," Inara scoffed, her temper starting to fray, "They just didn't like the style of my dress. Or any fashion at all, really."

The sheriff watched the exchange with interest. "Listen to y'all chatterin' on like you know each other. I guess we should make that conspiracy, solicitation, bribing an officer, and attempted jailbreak." He leaned in and planted his hands on the door barring Inara's cell. "Let that be a lesson to you, whore. No one refuses Mr. Baxter." He smiled back at them. "But we're generous folk around here, and we're even willing to offer some community service in lieu of sentencing."

Mal refused to look at Inara, even though by all accounts she was the reason they were in this mess, and even though the thought of her staying in this tiny building for any time with the hungry swine around chilled his blood a little. Whatever the sheriff was offering was their only way out. And hers."What's the job?" he asked.


End file.
